Price, 25 cents 




PUBLISHED BY 

The* Dramatic Publishing Company 

CHARLES HSERGEL . PRESIDENT 



Hageman's Make-Up Book 

By MAURICE HAGEMAN 

Price, 25 cents 

l S importance of an effective make-up is becoming more appat*' 
ent to the professional actor every year, but hitherto there has been 
no book on the subject describing the modern methods and at the 
same time covering all branches of the art. This want has now 
been filled. Mr. Hageman has had an experience of twenty years 
as actor and stage-manager, and his well-known literary ability has 
enabled him to put the knowledge so gained into shape to be of 
use to others. The book is an encyclopedia of the art of making up. 
Every branch of the subject is exhaustively treated, and few ques- 
tions can be asked by professional or amateur that cannot be an- 
swered by this admirable hand-book- It is not only the best make- 
up book ever published, but it is not likely to be superseded by 
any other. It is absolutely indispensable to every ambitious actor 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. General Remarks. 

Chapter II. Grease-Paints, their origin, components and use. 

Chapter III. The Make-up Box. Grease-Paints. Mirrors, Face 
Powder and Puff, Exora Cream, Rouge, Liquid Color, Grenadine, 
.Blue for the Eyelids, Brilliantine for the Hair, Nose Putty, Wig 
Paste, Mascaro, Crape Hair, Spirit Gum, Scissors, Artists' Stomps, 
Cold Cream, Cocoa Butter, Recipes for Cold Cream. - 

Chapter IV. Preliminaries before Making up; the Straight Make* 
up and how to remove it. 

Chapter V. Remarks to Ladies. Liquid Creams, Rouge, Lips, 
Eyebrows, Eyelashes, Character Roles, Jewelry, Removing Make-up. 

Chapter VI. Juveniles. Straight Juvenile Make-up, Society 
Men, Young Men in 111 Health, with Red Wigs, Rococo Make-up, 
Hands, Wrists, Cheeks, etc. 

Chapter VII. Adults, Middle Aged and Old Men. Ordinary Type 
of Manhood, Lining Colors, Wrinkles, Rouge, Sickly and Healthy 
Old Age, Ruddy Complexions. 

Chapter VIII. Comedy and Character Make-ups. Comedy Ef- 
fects, Wigs. Beards, Eyebrows, Noses, Lips, Pallor of Death. 

Chapter IX. The Human Features. The Mouth and Lips, the 
Eyes and Eyelids, the Nose, the Chin, the Ear, the Teeth. 

Chapter X. Other Exposed Parts of the Human Anatomy. 

Chapter XL Wigs, Beartfs, Moustaches, and Eyebrows. Choosing 
a Wig, Powdering the Hair, Dimensions for Wigs, Wig Bands, Bald 
Wigs, Ladies' Wigs, Beards on Wire, on Gauze, Crape Hair, Wool, 
Beards for Tramps, Moustaches, -Eyebrows. 

Chapter XII. Distinctive ajlel "traditional Characteristics. North 
American Indians, New England! Farmers, Hoosiers, Southerners, 
Politicians, Cowboys, Minors,* Quakers, Tramps, Creoles, Mulattoes. 
Quadroons, Octoroons, Negroes. Soldiers during War, Soldiers dur- 
ing Peace, Scouts, Pathfinders, Puritans, Early Dutch Settlers, 
Englishmen, Scotchmen, Irishmen, Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, 
Portuguese, South Americans, Scandinavians, Germans, Hollanders. 
Hungarians, Gipsies, Russians, Turks, Arabs, Moors, Caffirs, Abya- 
sinians, Hindoos, Malays, Chinese, Japanese, Clowns and Statuary, 
He 1 — a ws, Drunkards, Lunatics, Idiots, Misers, Rogues. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLmOIS 



NAPOLEON AND 
THE SENTRY 



A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



By 

P B. CORNEAU 



Copyright 1916 
By The Dramatic Publishing Company 



CHICAGO 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 



P5 3505 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 



Napoleon, The Emperor „ 

Jean, a French Soldier in Napoleon's Army , 

Sentry, a French Soldier /, 

Woman, a young wife in French costume in the time of 
Napoleon Bonaparte 

PLAYS THIRTY MINUTES. 



J -<• 

ft ^ 

DEC 26 1916 

©CIO 45741 



NAPOLEON AND THE SENTRY 



Scene — The open country. A vast plain, dotted with 
clumps of trees and bushes, shimmering in the vague, 
uncertain light of the half -clouded moon. 

In a little open space are the embers of a fire. 
Over this a Sentry is leaning, carefully turning 
some bit of food, meat or a sausage, ivhich is cooking 
over the embers. He is evidently very hungry and 
can scarcely wait till it is done. Finally he can re- 
sist no longer and taking a small piece of the meat 
from the fire with his knife takes a bite of it. It 
proves to be quite hot. He drops it with a howl and 
jumps up. As he does so his musket, ivhich has 
been resting against his knee and shoulder falls and 
is discharged. Shouts are heard outside. The Sen- 
try hurriedly takes the food from the fire and 
hides it in the bushes. A piece of bread is lying on a 
rock near the fire. He takes the bread to hide it, 
but hearing someone coming he hastily crams it all 
into his mouth. Jjean enters, running. 

Jean. The enemy ? Are they coming ? Where ? 

Sentry. | Who is trying to eat the bread.] Ugh — 
ugh— ugh— ,,, , . .., 

Jean. Comrade — You are wounded? 

Sentry. Ugh — ugh — ugh — 

Jean. I cannot understand you. 

[Jean looks out across the plain as looking for the 
enemy. Then his eyes turn to the fire. Some food still 
remains there that the Sentrt had forgotten to remove. 
The Sentry follows his glance. J 

3 



4 NAPOLEON AND THE SENTBY 

SentrY. [Suddenly, shouting.] There they are! 
There! Fire! There! [He points off frantically. Jean 
raises his rifle and fires. While he is doing so the Sentry 
hastily takes the meat from the fire and puts it in his 
pocket.'] 

Jean. Where were they ? I see no one. 

Sentry. There isn 't anybody. I dropped my gun ; 
and it went off. 

Jean. But, Comrade, you said — 

Sentry What did I say—? Bah ! Bah ! Don't get the 
Lieutenant here. 

Jean. [Calling off.] Lieutenant ! Everything is all 
right — Yes, it was a mistake, Lieutenant. 

Sentry. What are you doing here? Did you come to 
relieve me ? 

Jean. Yes, it is past two. 

Sentry. Did you bring anything to eat with you ? 

Jean. No. 

Sentry. You would have relieved me a good deal 
more if you had brought me something to eat. 

Jean. There is very little to be had to eat in camp. 
Besides I am too sleepy to think of food. 

Sentry. Too sleepy to think of food! Comrade, T 
dream of food. 

Jean. I am terribly sleepy. Listen, Comrade, last 
night I went to see my wife and my little girl. 

Sentry. Your wife and child — How is that possi- 
ble? 

Jean. This country is my home. I slipped past the 
lines and went to my cottage — eleven miles — eleven miles 
back — But, Comrade, one's wife and child! 

[The Sentry begins to weep, making a great noise 
about it.] 

Jean. [Sympathetically.] Ah, Comrade, you too 
have a wife and child. 

Sentry. Ah, you know that by my tears. None but 
a married man weeps like this. [He continues to weep.] 

Jean. Comrade — Comrade — 



NAPOLEON AND TEE SENTBT 5 

Sentry. I picture them to myself as they sit at home 
by the fire. Like this — look — here my aged parents — 
there my wife — here my two beautiful children — two of 
the most beautiful children in all Europe. It is a pity, 
Comrade, but their mother is not beautiful at all. The 
children do not resemble her in the least. 

Jean. It is a touching picture — 

Sentry. Ah, you have not heard all. They sit about 
the fire, parents and wife, and the two children the living 
images of their father, who stands before you, weary 
from long days of fighting and marching, with nothing to 
eat — that is, nothing to speak of — Ah, Comrade Jean, 
when I picture them sitting there — I cannot restrain my 
tears. [He iveeps again.] 

Jean. Comrade, I feel for you. » 

Sentry. Ah, but you have not heard all. What are 
they doing, my family? "What are they doing as they 
sit about the fire? 

Jean. Tell me, Comrade, what ? 

Sentry. [Almost overcome with emotion.] They are 
eating sausages. 

Jean. Sausages ! 

Sentry. Do you wonder, Comrade, that I weep ? 

Jean. Bah ! You have the soul of a pig ! 

Sentry. A pig must eat. For days the army has had 
scarcely any food at all. 

Jean. But think, Comrade, of the glory of the cause 
for which we fight and starve — our invaded fatherland 
and the glory of our Emperor. 

Sentry. [Grudgingly.] Napoleon is a great man — 

Jean. Assuredly — 

Sentry. Why? Because he is in a big place. 

Jean. The Emperor's glory is a matter of history. 

Sentry. Why is he where he is — at the head of the 
armies — at the head of the nation — ? Why \ 

Jean. Because it is God's will. 

Sentry. It is because he lias three good meals a day. 
That is why. Let me tell von. Comrade, it' I had three 



6 NAPOLEON AND THE SENTEY 

good meals a day for a week I could fight Europe single- 
handed. 

Jean. Why do you keep watching the bushes so 
closely ? 

Sentry. Nothing. I was not watching the bushes. 

Jean. You are watching something. 

Sentry. [Edging around so as to get between Jean 
and the bushes where the food is hidden.'] Jean ! — Look ! 

Jean. What ? 

Sentry. [Pointing.'] There — there — Is it the light 
flashing from a bayonet ? 

Jean. I can 't see. 

Sentry. Step out beyond the bushes. You can see 
clearer there. 

Jean. No — you are the sentry. 

Sentry. No, pardon me, you are. You have just re- 
lieved me. 

Jean. Well — then — 

Sentry. Quick — quick. 

[Jean goes out beyond the bushes on the other side. 
The Sentry quickly takes the food from beneath the 
bushes and hides it in his pocket. Jean comes back.] 

Sentry. Well—? 

Jean. I could see nothing. 

Sentry. I must have been mistaken. I am so weak 
from hunger that I think I am subject to hallucinations. 

Jean. I am not hungry. It is want of sleep thac 
troubles me. I am afraid I cannot stay awake on my 
watch to-night. Even now could I throw myself on the 
ground I would be asleep in an instant. And sleep — 
Out there somewhere in the night, out there somewhere 
in the moonlight, are bayonets and cannon. Across this 
plain, beyond the wide river lie the enemy. And sleep 
at my post to-night would mean — [He pauses and shrugs 
his shoulders.] 

Sentry. Napoleon would have you shot. That 's what. 
[He is silent a moment, thinking it over, as he prepares 
to return to camp.] 



NAPOLEON AND TEE SENTRY 7 

Sentry. But why should he? Is it right that he 
should? 

Jean. It is the rule of war. 

Sentry. Oh, that is well enough where there is dan- 
ger. But I ask you this : how could the enemy attack us 
when there is a river, a great ungainly river between us, 
deep as the very ocean ? It is not justice, I say. 

Jean. [Thoughtfully.'] There is somewhere about 
here a ford. I do not know exactly where it is. But 
there is one. I could find it perhaps; one not knowing 
the country could not. For unless one knew it he would 
never suspect that it was there. But the enemy knows, 
no doubt, that it is there. There are traitors among 
the peasants who will tell them. And Napoleon knows 
it ; for there is nothing that the Emperor does not know. 

Sentry. That is true, Comrade. 

Jean. And consequently he will have you or me shot 
quick as that \He snaps his fingers.] if we sleep on guard. 

Sentry. That is true, Jean. But as good to die of 
being shot as of starvation as I am doing. 

Jean. Comrade, will you do something for me ? Will 
you share my watch with me? 

Sentry. To keep watch with you ? Why ? 

Jean. I am so sleepy I am afraid I cannot stay awake. 

Sentry. You ask this of me, Jean ? Do you consider 
me as a beast without understanding, that I would be 
willing to watch while you lie snoring by the fire, warm 
and snug, with your cloak about you? I go to camp. 
\He starts off.] 

Jean. No, no, Comrade ! Listen ! It is not that I con- 
sider you a beast without understanding. It is that I 
know your generous soul. Listen. Over there, miles 
away, near where the righl wing of the enemy lies, I was 
born. There I have always lived. There now, Comrade, 
live 1 my wife and my little girl. For a year, Comrade, 
I had not seen them. Last night, instead of sleeping — 
though the night before I had been almost without sleep 
— I left the camp ; I crossed the plain ; I swam the river — 
I had no time to search for the ford — I passed the sent pies 



8 NAPOLEON AND THE SENTRY 

of the enemy. I came to my native village, to my own 
house. And for the first time in a year I saw my wife 
and my little girl. Only a kiss and a few words, and 
back again past the sentries of the enemy, across the 
river and the plain. Then all day work on the entrench- 
ments, the threatened attack — That, Comrade, is why 
I can scarcely keep awake. 

Sentry. But, Jean, that may be true. But I already 
have kept my watch. I too am sleepy. And if we both 
sleep there are two that will be blindfolded in the morn- 
ing. 

Jean. Comrade, you are right. I do not ask it. 

Sentry. Jean, I am a grumbler — I am selfish — But I 
will stay. 

Jean. No — no — 

Sentry. I will keep watch with you. I will keep 
awake somehow. 

Jean. No — You must not — Go — Go — [He pushes 
the Sentry off.] 

[Jean stands still a moment, gazing out across the 
plain, then walks to and fro, then stops, then moves about 
again. After a while he goes to the fire and stirs it up 
and puts on more sticks It Mazes up. He stoops down 
by it to warm his hands. His head nods droivsily. He 
almost falls over on the ground. He rouses himself and 
begins to walk back and forth once more. He halts and 
examines his musket. Then he begins to mutter to him- 
self.] 

Jean. Jean ! Jean ! You must keep awake — awake — 
Jean, do you hear! You must — It is necessary — It is 
life or death — Do not go to sleep, Jean, do not — If you 
do Napoleon will have you shot. Remember that. Re- 
member your wife, — your little girl. — You must keep 
awake — awake — If I sit down that will rest me. I shall 
not be so drowsy then. No! No! Don't do it. You 
will fall asleep. [He begins to sing, but stops suddenly.'] 

"Madame Veto avait pron — ■" But I shall try it just 
a minute — just a minute — 



NAPOLEON AND THE SENTEY Q 

[He crouches on the ground.] 

Only a minute — a minute — a min — 

[His head sinks lower and lower. His musket slips to 
the ground. He stretches himself out, face downward, 
with a sigh. He sleeps. 

The fire dies down until it is again only a mass of 
glowing embers. The vast silent plain shimmers in the 
moonlight. Jean moans and moves a little in his sleep, 
then lies motionless. An hour passes — or a moment — ■ 

From somewhere, in the shadow of the bushes, has 
come the figure of a man, indistinct as yet. It stands mo- 
tionless a moment, a short, broad, sturdy figure, ominous, 
reassuring, as one thinks of the sleeping sentry, or of the 
foe across the plain. Then it steps forward into the 
'moonlight. It is Napoleon. 

Nothing escapes his observation; yet his face expresses 
no emotion. He lifts his eyes from their glance at the 
sleeping sentry and gazes for a long time across the 
plain. Then, noticing the sentry again, he goes to him 
and kneeling beside him takes up his musket. Jean's 
cloak has fallen from about his shoidder. Napoleon 
replaces it carefully, then rises and stands leaning on the 
musket, gazing out across the plain.] 

Napoleon. [Talking to himself.] Emperor! — Ar- 
biter of the fortunes of Europe, of the world! — I have 
reached and stand on the summit of human power — But 
the footing is slippery — And from the summit to the 
depths what a tremendous fall! — The least misstep — 
the loss of the battle to-morrow — The river — if I could 
Cross — They could find no ford — If there were one I 
could cross — and attack, not on their chosen ground but 
on mine — their right think and rear would crumble — As 
it is I can attack only their center — Their position is 
strong — Defeat! — Defeat for Napoleon! — River, are yon 
to be my conqueror, the conqueror of Napoleon! 

[Jean moves uneasily in his sleep. Napoleon watches 
him. lie does not wake and soon becomes still again. 
Napoleon stands brooding, without motion. 

From among the bushes suddenly springs a young 



10 NAPOLEON AND TEE SENTBY 

woman, little more than a girl, in the dress of a peasant. 
Her clothing is torn, her hair flying. She does not notice 
Jean lying on the ground. Her eyes are on Napoleon. 

Napoleon hears her and turns, not as the sentry would, 
with bayonet advanced, but quietly, commanding. Be- 
fore him the woman feels a terror she does not. under- 
stand,] 

Woman. You are not Jean — 

[Napoleon does not answer; nor does he give any sign 
that he has heard her.] 

Woman. My husband — He said to-night he would do 
sentry duty — I have asked all the sentries — His post is 
about here — A sentry knew him — He sent me this way — 
Jean ? Do you know him, monsieur ? 

[Napoleon does not answer. She begins to falter.] 

Woman. He is not here — It is farther on that he is 
stationed — ? I will go — [She moves off. An almost 
imperceptible, gesture of Napoleon's stops her.] You 
know my husband — where is he? 

[Napoleon makes no reply. She follows his glance 
and notices for the first time the sleeping Jean.] 

Woman. Oh ! — 

Napoleon. Is that your husband ? 

Woman. Yes — yes — He is the sentry? He sleeps — 
You take his place? — [Her voice rises and shakes with 
fear.] Who are you? 

[Napoleon turns ever so little; and the moonlight falls 
on his face.] 

Woman. [Falling on her knees.] The Emperor ! 

Napoleon. You are a soldier's wife. You know that 
for the sentry who sleeps at his post the penalty is — 

Woman. [Crying out, interrupting him.] Sire! Hear 
me ! — Forgive him — Sire — 

Napoleon. He is a sentry. [He points first to Jean, 
then to the moonlit plain.] Over there, beyond the river, 
is the enemy. 

Woman. Sire — He is worn out. Days of fighting and 
marching — sleepless nights — He is not iron as you are, 
Sire. He is a mortal, not a god. 



NAPOLEON AND TEE SENTRY \\ 

Napoleon. [Affected a little by the flattery.] It 
may be possible that I have expected too much of my 
soldiers. But what are you doing here? 

Woman. I am his wife. This country is our home. I 
knew he kept watch to-night. I came here to see him 
once more. To-morrow they say there will be a battle. 
And in a battle — who knows what may happen. It is 
more than a year since he went away from me to fight 
for his Emperor. Last night he came to me, to his 
home. Last night, though weary, he took neither rest 
nor sleep. In the darkness he left the camp to visit 
his wife and child. Three hours over the plain, three 
hours back to camp. No wonder, Sire, that sleep has 
overcome him. 

Napoleon. He went without his rest last night that 
he might visit you? 

Woman. Yes, Sire. To visit his wife and child. Few 
women have such a husband. There are not many sol- 
diers, worn out with days of battle that would do as 
much. You will not punish a man like that, Sire? 

Napoleon. I have exacted much from my. soldiers. 
Had he fallen asleep from weariness from doing his duty 
I would have pardoned him. But what you have told 
me has changed the aspect of the affair. He who puts 
his wife and child before his country and his Emperor 
is a traitor. 

Woman. [In terror.] Sire — ! 

Napoleon. This suffices. Return to your village. 

Woman. Sire — No — No — He — he did not come to see 
me. He did not come to me last night. He does not 
know I came. I have not seen him since the early spring, 
a year ago — a year ago — • 

[Napoleon turns away from her. 

She makes a gesture of despair and stands for a 
moment as if not knowing what to do. Suddi nly six: 
runs to Jean and gazes at him inU ntly. Jean moves on 
arm convulsively, changes his position slightly, and sli < ps 
more soundly than before. She gots back and stands 
before' Napoleon.] 



12 NAPOLEON AND THE SENTRY 

Woman. Sire, I was mistaken. That is not my hus- 
band. — It is amusing. [She tries to laugh, but does not 
succeed very well.] That is not my husband at all. Such 
a droll mistake! My husband is a large man, great, 
gruff — old — with a scar on his cheek. It is the firelight 
that deceived me. — This poor soldier — I do not know 
him. — But you will pardon him, Sire? 

[Napoleon does not reply. He is gazing once more 
across the plain. His right hand moves a little, now as 
if pointing out something, now like the hand of a chess 
player.] 

Woman. Sire, you must answer me. 

Napoleon. He must die. 

Woman. Sire ! Sire — He is not my husband. 

Napoleon. Wake him. 

Woman. Oh — Oh — I cannot — 

Napoleon. Wake him and say farewell. The time is 
short. It is near daybreak. 

Woman. [Going toward Jean and drawing back.] 
Oh — I cannot — [Suddenly with a cry she rushes to 
Napoleon and throws herself on the ground at his feet, 
clasping his knees.] Sire — In the name of the good God 
— Sire — 

[Napoleon tries to shake her off. She rises to her 
knees, still clinging to him. She clasps his arm, tittering 
half unintelligible cries and ejaculations. Napoleon tries 
again to free himself. In doing so he touches her skirt.] 

Napoleon. Your dress is wet. There is no dew on the 
ground. — How did you come here ? 

Woman. Across the river, Sire. 

Napoleon. You did not swim? 

Woman. I cannot swim. I crossed by the ford. 

Napoleon. There is no ford. 

Woman. I crossed by it, Sire. 

Napoleon. They told me there was no ford. 

Woman. They are stupid. Any child hereabouts 
knows there is one. — But few know where to find it who 
have not been born hereabouts. 

Napoleon. Could you find it again? 



NAPOLEON AND THE SENTBY 13 

Woman. This country is my home. It is twenty years 
since I was born. What girl does not know her own 
country ? 

Napoleon. It is wide and safe ? 

Woman. An army could cross, Sire. 

Napoleon. An army shall. 

[In the distance is heard the report of a cannon.~\ 

Napoleon. Hark! The battle is beginning. Listen. 
You will show the way across the ford. Marmont will 
cross and attack the right flank and the rear while I 
attack the center as they expect. Between us their right 
wing will be crushed and crumpled as easily as a sheet of 
paper. [He stands listening to the sound of the distant 
cannon which is momentarily increasing in volume.'] 

Woman. Sire ! — But my husband — 

Napoleon. I had forgotten. Wake him. 

[The Woman goes to Jean and shakes him. Napoleon 
stands grimly watching. Jean wakens, dazed, confused. 
He recognizes his wife with a cry of surprise. He-sees 
the terror on her face and turns and sees Napoleon. But 
he does not yet quite realize the situation. He looks 
about, collecting his thoughts. Then he realizes what 
has happened and becomes limp with fear,] 

Woman. Jean ! Jean ! Speak to him — Beseech him — 

Jean. Sire — I have slept — Death — [The sky grows 
red with dawn.] The last sunrise — 

Woman. [Pleading.] Sire — Sire — 

Napoleon. [As if awakening from a dream.] You 
spoke to me — ? 

Woman. Sire — Sire — Pardon him — pardon him — 

[The cannonade grows louder.] 

Napoleon. Listen, my children! You hear them — 
my cannon — ? Listen! It is my spirit knocking at the 
doors of fate. Soon the very earth on which we stand 
will rock and tremble witli the sound. At my bidding 
the demons of eternal hate will blacken this meadow 
with smoke and water the grass on which we si and with 
blood. Hark! The winds of destiny are rising — It is 
the whirlwind of the death of nations. And I, Napoleon, 



14 NAPOLEON' AND TEE SENTRY 

guide the storm. Fate has tossed you to my hands to 
bring me victory. Live — die — What does it matter ? 

Woman. You pardon him — ? 

[Napoleon dismisses the matter with a wave of his 
hand. She clasps Jean in her arms.] 

Napoleon. What is life? What is death? How 
many times again will this field be a battleground ? How 
many times will bayonets sweep across it in glittering 
lines? How many times' again will the "Marseillaise" 
sound out above the roar of cannon ? Ah, the world has 
been a battleground and will be many times again. This 
river before me — how many times have its waters been 
red with blood! The Meuse, the Marne, the Aisne — 
their banks will re-echo again and again to the sound of 
cannon. 

Jean. Sire, the battle is beginning. 

Napoleon. Another victory. They thought I was 
beaten. But they shall see. They shall know that I am 
still Napoleon. 

[The cannonade grows louder. The music of a hand is 
heard, and the cheering of troops advancing into battle.] 



curtain 



HICKS AT COLLEGE 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By 

SARA PRESTON, AMY OLIVER AND RALPH E. DYAR 



PRICE, 25 CENTS 



Characters, twelve male, nine female. Plays about two 
hours. Costumes modern. Three easy interior scenes. 
A jolly, lively piece — full of comedy and action — well 
adapted to the needs of schools and colleges and ama- 
teurs everywhere. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Hiram Hicks The Braino Man 

Tom Horton Who writes advertisements 

Fritz Jordan Horton 's chum who plays basket ball 

Adam Biddicut Professor in' Northern University 

Dean Smiley. Dean of the College of Arts in Northern University 

Percy Bobbins A recent arrival from "Deah Boston" 

Adolph Hopkins A lazy boy 

Bastian Briggs A dig 

Josh Anderson .A basket ball enthusiast 

Charlie Padlet Reporter for the * ' Daily Shriek ' ' 

Peter The popular proprietor of ' ' The Pal ' ' 

Walker Manager for the Braino Man 

June Grant ) Seniors, chums, and interested respectively in 
Polly Porter ) Horton and Jordan 

Claire Angeline Jones A stage struck girl 

Susy Spriggins A freshman with a crush 

Daisy Armstrong , . . An athletic girl 

Fluff Finley .A fusser girl 

Flora Belle Delamartyr Waitress at ' ' The Pal ■ ' 

Mrs. Cobb .Housekeeper at "The Quarters" 

Lily Maid at ' ' The Quarters ' ' 

ACT I. Scene — The Palace of Sweets, familiarly known as "The 
Pal," the meeting place of town and college. Time — Morn- 
ing, three days before the championship game. 
ACT II. Scene — The campus of Northern University. Time— 

Morning, the day of the game. 
ACT III. Scene— "The Quarters," home of the six boys. Time 
— Evening, the jubilee after the game. 

Address orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



THE DUST OF THE EARTH 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 

By 

KATHERINE KAVANAUGH 

Author of "The Professor of Love," "The Girl and the 
Outlaw," "Corinne of the Circus," etc. 



PRICE, 25 CENTS 



This Rural Drama plays two hours and there are six 
male and four female characters. There are one exterior 
and two interior scenes, all simple. Each character fur- 
nishes a good part; interesting plot wound into every 
line of the play; two charming love stories; the heroine 
and her story win the audience from the moment the 
curtain rises. Full of mystery, romance, pathos and fun. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

David Moore, of Maple Farm Cottage. 

Susan Moore, his wife. 

Elizabeth, their daughter. 

Jerry, their son. 

Rev. Dr. Templeton, a young divine. 

Miss Arabella, the village newspaper. 

John Ryder, the young master of The Maples. 

Wandering Tom, a mystery. 

Old Morse, his companion. 

Nell, "The dust of the earth." 

Address orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



Practical Instructions for 
Private Theatricals 

Bv W. D. EMERSON 

l.tithm of **A Country Romance,' ' "The Unknown Rival," 

"Humble Pie," etc. 



Price, 25 cents 



Here *s a practical hand-book, describing in detail all the 
accessories, properties, scenes and apparatus necessary for an 
amateur production. In addition to the descriptions in words, 
everything is clearly shown in the numerous pictures, more 
than one hundred being inserted in the book. No such useful 
book has ever been offered to the amateur players of any 
',ountry 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. Introductory Eemarks. 

Chapter II. Stage, How to Make, etc. In drawing-rooms 
or parlors, with sliding or hinged doors. In a single large 
room. The Curtain; how to attach it, and raise it, etc. 

Chapter 111. Arrangement of Scenery. How to hang it. 
Drapery, tormentors, wings, borders, drops. 

Chapter IV. Box Scenes. Center door pieces, plain wings, 
dioor wings, return pieces, etc. 

Chapter V. How to Light the Stage. Oil, gas and electric 
nght. Footlights, Sidelights, Reflectors, how to darken the 
stage, etc. 

Chapter VI. Stage Effects. Wind, Rain, Thunder, Break- 
ing Glass, Falling Buildings, Snow, Water, Waves, Cascades, 
Passing Trains, Lightning, Chimes, Sound of Horses' HoofSj, 
Shots. 

Chapter VII. Scene Painting. 

Chapter VIII. A W r ord to the Property Man. 

Chapter IX. To the Stage Manager. " -p 

Chapter X. The Business Manager. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

plaJHP, 

And Entertainment Books. 

JftEING the largest theatrical booksellers iir 
W* the United States, we keep in stock the most 
complete and best assorted lines of plays and en- 
tertainment books to be found anywhere. 

We can supply any play or book pub 
lished. We have issued a catalogue of the best 
plays and entertainment books published in 
America and England. It contains a full 
description of each play, giving number of char- 
acters, time of playing, scenery, costumes, etc. 
This catalogue will be sent free on application. 

The plays described are suitable for ama- 
teurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
may be played free of royalty. Persons inter* 
ested in dramatic books should examine our cat* 
alogue before ordering elsewhere. 

We also carry a full line of grease paints, 
face powders, hair goods, and other ' 'make-up' * 
materials. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company 
CHICAGO 



